


The Guilty Ones

by fezzydrinks



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Darkfic, Gen, I went wild with rhetorical questions, Rape, Suicide, is implied - Freeform, nobody is happy, the T rating is for darkness not romance, there is definitely no romance, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fezzydrinks/pseuds/fezzydrinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moritz's last thoughts and Ilse's first thoughts after (or thereabouts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guilty Ones

You were building up the courage to do it when you saw her. She was beautiful, and hasn’t she always been that way? She is dressed positively scandalously, in nothing but an enormous shirt, splattered with paint in the colours of her skin. Her feet are bare and her legs look long and tantalising and you know, all of a sudden, which legs you dreamed about. Yet legs are not enough to save you, not now. Maybe she could whisk you away, make you forget about Virgil and equations but for how long? You would have to go back to it, eventually. She speaks, asks you to walk with her and you nearly change your mind, nearly let her stop you. But you don’t. You say you have homework even though it is the holidays and perhaps you make the lie obvious because you want her to notice but she is so caught up in her thrilling world of artists that she doesn’t. She is telling you about a cold gun being pointed at her and her terror. If someone threatened to shoot you, to do the task for you, you would welcome it, it would certainly be easier.   
She asks you again if you will come with her and God, you want to. You wish, wish, wish that she could solve everything, take you into her arms and cradle you like your mother did when you were an infant. But you can’t because you know that her promises wouldn’t last and when you failed her, as you have failed everyone else there would be nothing left and you would be here again, a pistol weighing heavy in your right pocket, a blank pen and paper in the other, because you don’t have the words to explain why death was your only option. Sometime during your hesitance she had gone, as fast as she arrived.   
“Ilse”. She has already disappeared out of earshot, you tell yourself, even though you did not shout as loud as you could have. 

Now you are back to building up the courage for it. And hasn’t she ruined everything? Because you knew who you were leaving behind, or you thought you did and you knew you were going to hell but then she floated in, reminded you of those dreams and of friendship and of all the things you once thought it was worth staying alive for. But that was before you failed the year and your family. You failed everyone and there is no redeeming yourself and you know you can’t do it all again, you just can’t. No, there is only one choice now.

******  
I was chopping the stalks off strawberries in the kitchen for old Herr Fischer. The juice that ran out of them and stained the wooden chopping board was as red as the blood on my hands. And perhaps he would say it is not my fault but I know I was the last to see him alive. I should have tried harder to save him, should have made him come with me. I could have watched over him and perhaps he would have been used, in the same way that I am used but at least he would be alive. The strawberries reminded me of when we were small and after Melchior and Wendla had gone home together, grinning shyly at each other, Moritz and I would stuff our faces with fruit from the wild bushes and plants at the end of my garden. And we would share secrets, ones that we could never tell anyone else. He told me he was afraid to climb trees because he was too worried about falling. Maybe if I had said something different then he wouldn’t be dead now. And in return I told him I was afraid of the dark and he listened and I knew he understood that it was not just ghouls and witches that I feared. Moritz was such a good listener, I can hardly believe he isn’t listening now.  
After I had finished preparing the strawberries I scrubbed the chopping board with soap and water and tears but the stains would not come out, they stayed to remind me of my shame. Because it is not just shame over Moritz, there is shame over the life I am living, the one that requires me to sell and resell my body, until it is worth almost nothing, just to stay away from the real life monsters that haunted my childhood. That day, when I saw Moritz in the woods I thought, and I don’t know why, but I thought he might be my saviour. I came across him from behind, you see, and he was wearing a white shirt that stood out through the dark, shady woods and he looked almost like an angel. Perhaps because he almost was one. But I thought he had been sent there for me, to rescue me from those lecherous old men, who I had once thought would be harmless. I suppose I was so caught up in the idea that I might be saved that I didn’t notice that truly it was I who had been sent to save him and so I failed. The worst thing is, I can’t help but be angry at him for not saving me and for dying instead even though I don’t think that was his job. Why couldn’t he see that we could have saved each other? Why couldn’t I? But it is too late now and he is buried below the earth and I am just barely clinging on above it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this was so sad, I feel bad not giving my precious Moritz the joy he deserves. I'm trying to write a fun, longer fic though so maybe that will make up for this hellish misery.


End file.
